


It's All Okay

by LightDarkPheonix



Series: Sherlock 1000k+ ficlets [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ace character, Angst, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Redbeard - Freeform, Sibling Incest, holmescest, more angst than I expected, post-Return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightDarkPheonix/pseuds/LightDarkPheonix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm sorry that I've hurt you,<br/>In more ways than one,<br/>But I truly love you,<br/>I am the moon, you are the sun.<br/>-Poem by me (yay pretensions!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All Okay

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing short 1000 word long fics all week, because I really don't have that much to do and I have a lot of ideas.  
> I was wandering around a forum about gray-asexuality on tumblr, and I read something about how aces and aros don't have too much representation in fiction.  
> Now, I myself being alloromantic, I didn't feel qualified to write fiction about someone aromantic. So, I decided to write asexual!holmescest as a sort of experiment, and as a means of raising awareness.  
> To those who don't know, asexuality is characterized by a lack of sexual desire towards anyone.(well it is one, but it means exactly what the word does) and aromantic is the equivalent with romantic orientations.  
> If I got that wrong, please tell me! I'm a homoromantic bisexual myself, so I'm not exactly the most qualified on the subject.

Sherlock smiled as he curled against Mycroft’s side. Sometime’s he hated the height that Mycroft had on him, but right now? It meant he could fit his head against his brother’s neck, and cuddle into his side. Sherlock grinned as he felt Mycroft’s finger carding through his hair, rubbing his head in just the right way.  
“You’re like a cat, you know that right?” Mycroft said as he moved his fingers to Sherlock’s neck, making circular motions that felt really, really nice.  
The detective snorted, and deliberately purred, and grabbed his brother’s hand. “I love you,” he said quietly.  
“Love you too,” Mycroft said quietly.  
Sherlock pressed his face against Mycroft’s side. It had been a long time since they had had a quiet moment like this. “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “I really am,” he said, his voice slightly muffled by his brother’s shirt. Mycroft had taken off his jacket some time ago, something he rarely did around people who weren’t Sherlock.  
Mycroft sighed, and pulled Sherlock into a tight hug. “I know you know,” he said, equally quietly. “What I said at our parents house was true,” he said after a few beats of silence. “It would truly break my heart to lose you.”  
“Well, you didn’t, and that’s what’s important. I’m here, and Moriarty has actually done us a favor by coming back because,” and Sherlock pulled away and flashed one of his true smiles, “we’ll have an excuse to be around each other more.”  
Mycroft nodded. “That is a nice side affect. I’m so, so sorry I told Moriarty all that,” he said, his tone suddenly guilt ridden, as it always was whenever he brought up the topic of the information he’d given Sherlock.  
Sherlock shrugged. He shifted so they were facing each other, and he tucked his legs under himself. It was the pose he always got into when he began speaking in earnest about his own emotions. “It’s been two years My,” he grabbed his brother’s hand again. “I forgave you a long time ago. I had a lot of time to think, in Serbia. Thinking was the only real respite from the pain. And I realized that I’d give all of my time with John for even a day with you.”  
Mycroft’s eyes widened, and reached out a tentative hand to touch Sherlock’s face, pushing a loose curl behind the other’s ear. “Really?” he asked. John was Sherlock’s best friend, and Mycroft had seen the pain he had felt when he had gotten married to Mary.  
Sherlock nodded. “No matter how much time I spent with him, you were always the person I wanted to turn to. It’s just...” he looked down, and Mycroft’s stomach tightened with guilt.  
“I wasn’t there. I got... I got so caught up in my work as the British government that I stopped having time for you, which should never, ever happen. And the front we had put up to keep our relationship safe from the public view became real,” he said quietly, and quite unconsciously he pulled himself into a similar position that Sherlock was sitting in.  
“I know,” Sherlock said, and Mycroft winced. “That, and how you turned me away when I was at the throes of my addiction hurt,” he looked up at Mycroft. “Look at me My,” he said quietly, and the british government tentatively looked up. “I don’t feel that way anymore,” he said, and Mycroft let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “I realized, during the entirety of my time away, and especially when you came in and pulled me out, that you are the most important person in my life. I love you.”  
Mycroft sucked in a deep breath before he spoke. “Sherl, I am still sorry from every wrong I have committed against you. And by all rights I should walk away from you, let you continue to hate me, because you’d be safer. A relationship with me, in any capacity, would always dangerous. What I do, it automatically puts the people around me in danger, or at the very lest potential danger,” fearing Sherlock might misunderstand what he was getting at, he talked over his brother’s attempt to respond. “But I’m not. I’m selfish, and I’m happy that you’re finally letting me back into that ridiculous heart of yours,” he placed a hand on Sherlock’s chest, “and even though I might end up hurting you, or life will do its thing and something will happen that will break both of our hearts, I’m going to do this. I’m going to stay here, and not walk away. Because I love you to.”  
To Mycroft’s surprise, Sherlock’s reaction was to laugh. Before he could even feel hurt, his younger brother said, in that blunt way of his, “Who says you’re the selfish? I jumped off a building, My, and I’ve always tested your limits, pushing you and pushing you and pushing you. While it hurt, it was understandable that you got fed up,” he smiled crookedly and placed his hand on Mycroft’s chest as well.  
“That doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t make it good. But thank you,” he said, and he blinked away what were definitely not tears.  
The kiss was less of a kiss and more of an affirmation of what had been just said. It just sort of happened, and it didn’t go farther then closed mouth pressed against closed mouth. Nothing farther happened, nothing farther was wanted. It was short, and almost chaste. Mycroft pulled Sherlock into a tight hug, and in a reversal of the position they had started in, he pressed his face into Sherlock’s shoulder, breathing in how very alive he was.  
“I love you,” he said again into Sherlock’s chest. “Those months I thought you were dead were the hardest of my life,” he added. Sherlock responded by tightening the hug.  
“I missed you so badly, that entire time,” Sherlock said. They separated, once again sitting with their feet tucked under their bodies, facing each other on the couch. “You know, it’s a good thing you have such a wide couch,” he said wryly. “We might’ve fallen off, otherwise.”  
Mycroft snorted. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been up forty-eight hours trying to deal with the mess you made by shooting a man point blank in the head, and I’m tired.” He gave an exaggerated yawn. “Care to cosleep, dearest?” he asked.  
“Of course,” Sherlock answered, and they made their way to Sherlock’s room. The two of them stripped down to their boxers and got under the covers, Mycroft cradling Sherlock against his chest - another plus of the small height difference.  
Sherlock fell asleep listening to Mycroft’s breathing, and Mycroft fell asleep soon after.  
That night, Sherlock dreamed of Redbeard. Not of when he lost him, but when he had him. This was the first time in a very long time that he had done so. The death of Redbeard was one of the very first times Mycroft had lied to him in a significant way. Maybe this meant he was now fully letting go.


End file.
